


you and me and this temptation

by warsfeil



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Costumes, M/M, Spitroasting, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: Everyone has moments where they feel completely out of their depth, and this was one of the shining examples in Kaoru Hakaze’s life thus far. Individually, all the pieces of the situation were things he would have been able to deal with, but now that all the pieces were assembled, the only reaction he could muster was to stare, mouth dry and eyes wide.“Wow,” Chiaki offered, apparently capable of a modicum more speech than Kaoru was at the moment.Izumi wears a bunny costume. His boyfriends are very, very excited.
Relationships: Hakaze Kaoru/Morisawa Chiaki/Sena Izumi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	you and me and this temptation

Everyone has moments where they feel completely out of their depth, and this was one of the shining examples in Kaoru Hakaze’s life thus far. Individually, all the pieces of the situation were things he would have been able to deal with, but now that all the pieces were assembled, the only reaction he could muster was to stare, mouth dry and eyes wide.

“Wow,” Chiaki offers, apparently capable of a modicum more speech than Kaoru was at the moment. 

“Thanks,” Izumi offers, dryly. He was refusing to make eye contact with either of them, glancing away and at a fixed point on the wall. There was nothing of his normal modeled idol behavior, here; there were no cameras, and the only eyes in the room were three third years, which meant that Izumi’s tone made no allusions to social niceties. “That’s exactly the reaction I’m going for.”

“You look amazing,” Kaoru says, finally, his brain kickstarting back into gear with the knowledge that compliments would be what helped smooth over the situation. He reaches out, and the silk of Izumi’s body suit is exactly as soft as he thought it might be. Izumi allows himself to be pulled forward by the hips, and Kaoru drags his eyes away from the way the white fishnet stockings ripple with the movement. 

“Better,” Izumi says. He’s not letting them off that easily, but Kaoru wouldn’t have expected him to: Izumi was a carefully cultured cactus, and finding a way around the thorns was half the fun. 

“Yes, you look amazing!” Chiaki agrees, his words a little too fast and a little too loud. Izumi tilts his head, the bunny ears clipped delicately to the headband listing off to the side with the action. “I was so stunned I couldn’t think of anything to say! You’re beautiful, you’re--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Izumi says, cutting Chiaki off by reaching out and pressing a finger to his lips. There’s a flush on Izumi’s cheeks that matches the red on Chiaki’s face; Kaoru thinks he’s managing to keep any such coloration off his own cheeks, but it’s only a matter of time. “You’re the ones who wanted this outfit.”

Kaoru considers bringing up the fact that it was a discussion between the three of them, and it was only Izumi volunteering that had saved Chiaki from the fate of dressing up with dog ears -- but then he decides it’s safer not to. He’d rather be able to continue appreciating the look of Izumi in a bunny costume (while also keeping the dog ear thing on the table).

Kaoru’s hands quest backwards automatically, fingers dragging across the smooth satin surface of Izumi’s outfit. They move around to his ass, the juncture between the carefully reinforced seams of the bodysuit and the crisscrossing pattern of his fishnet stockings, and he can feel the slit in the fabric where the tail accessory is probably meant to go.

“Huh,” Kaoru says, and Izumi refuses to acknowledge his wandering hands, choosing instead to cross his arms over his chest. “Are you missing the tail?”

“...Yes,” Izumi admits, and keeps his arms tightly crossed as Chiaki makes a noise, leaning back to get a better view of Izumi’s ass. “It wasn’t --” 

Izumi, uncharacteristically, cuts off. For someone as well spoken as Izumi Sena, that’s almost cause for alarm, but he moves back, letting Kaoru’s hands fall to his sides as he steps back across the room. He digs around in the bag he’d brought with him, and Kaoru and Chiaki both take a moment to admire the way that bodysuit leaves absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination when Izumi bends over. Izumi straightens, turning back around and giving them a look that says that he knows exactly where their eyes were, a puff of fake fur sticking out of his fist.

“This is the accessory it came with,” Izumi says, and his tone is carefully controlled as he holds it out and slowly unfurls his fingers. 

Kaoru feels his mouth go dry for the second time in the past five minutes, which is a sharp contrast to the way he can feel his dick automatically respond to the occasion. He shifts, trying to get a more comfortable position _before_ it becomes a problem, and he watches the way Izumi’s mouth quirks into a knowing smile for a few seconds.

“Is that,” Chiaki says, red all the way to his ears, “I mean, it’s. _Is it_?”

A hero of justice doesn’t seem quite capable of saying the word _vibrator_ , which Kaoru can respect; this kind of thing definitely wasn’t covered in any of the sentai shows he watched as a kid. Izumi rolls his eyes, dropping it over Chiaki’s lap and watching the way Chiaki immediately catches it before it can hit the floor, and then holds it like it’s a very precious pet snake that might bite him at any moment.

“I thought it would be easier if I didn’t put it in myself,” Izumi says, and his tone is bored, but Kaoru knows him too well. The flush in his cheeks and the way his hand splays awkwardly over his own hip -- a model pose completely unsuited to the current situation -- pays testament to the fact that he’s as embarrassed by the situation as they are, all three of them aroused together and still so awkward about it.

Sometimes, Kaoru thinks it’s a miracle they ever managed to get this far.

“Then,” Kaoru ventures, something about fortune favoring the brave running through his mind, “we can help.”

Chiaki opens his mouth, closes it, swallows, and then settles for nodding as rapidly as he can, apparently not quite trusting his voice. Kaoru doesn’t blame him. 

“Sure,” Izumi says. He slides over, sitting down between them and watching the way they both instinctively move over to allow better room for him. Chiaki reaches out, the tail still in one hand and the other moving to finally drag a hesitant hand down Izumi’s side. Izumi allows it, carefully rigid until the automatic reaction to shiver has passed, and then allows himself to relax. 

“Don’t you need to take this off?” Chiaki asks, and Izumi responds by rolling over onto his elbows. He doesn’t make the pose sexy: this isn’t a pin-up, no ass held high in the air, but the slit in the back of the outfit is still easy enough to see, as is the lack of underwear.

“Don’t worry,” Izumi says, airily, “it’s a one-time use outfit.” 

Kaoru licks his lips, because his mouth feels entirely too dry, but Izumi catches his eyes and smiles in a way that says it came across significantly more lewd than Kaoru had intended. If that’s the case -- fine; Kaoru has no lingering hesitation when it comes to being lewd, not when Izumi is already laying there in a satin bunny outfit.

Chiaki is the one that’s still holding the tail, so when Kaoru gets up to grab the lube from the bag, he’s the one he hands it too. Chiaki rolls it over in his hands, uncertain, and then wraps his hand around it, pulling his arm down in some sort of sentai power pose that probably exhibits his inner determination to be good at sex. He doesn’t _say_ anything about it, which makes Kaoru think it’s a thought that’s actually 100% for Chiaki’s own sake -- which is cute, honestly, even if Kaoru doesn’t intend to volunteer up the information.

“You’ve been planning this a lot longer than a week,” Kaoru says, conversationally, letting himself spread out on the bed next to Izumi. He props his chin up on his arm, letting his other hand trail down Izumi’s spine until he meets the reinforced fabric of the corset. 

Izumi refuses to make eye contact, letting his eyes shut and preening under the attention instead. Kaoru keeps moving his hand, fingertips tracing up and down Izumi’s spine as he watches Chiaki move out of the corner of his eye. 

It isn’t exactly a case of practice makes perfect, but practice certainly _helps_ ; this isn’t the first time they’ve had sex, and the first few times were spent half on the sheer mechanics of the situation and half on trying to stop their brains from short-circuiting due to the combination of embarrassment and arousal. The sheer horny energy of Yumenosaki could power several nuclear reactors, and that was probably a conservative estimate -- the class of 3-A _alone_...

Well, Kaoru couldn’t say he was upset at the way things had turned out.

Chiaki is careful with the way he slips the vibrator in. It’s small enough that it’s an easy press, but Chiaki is always the one to take extra care, to be certain that nothing even begins to skirt the line of uncomfortable. Izumi’s eyes don’t open, but his eyelids flutter as the tail slips in to settle where it needs to be, the flared base leading to the tail doing an admirable job of completing the “bunny” look. 

“It’s,” Izumi says, and the way his breath catches is a dead giveaway despite his best attempts to seem unaffected, “wireless. The remote is in the bag.”

Chiaki doesn’t move, thumbing circles down at the base of Izumi’s ass, nails catching and distorting the pattern of the fishnet stockings. It leaves it up to Kaoru to grab the remote, which is just as well; as attractive as Izumi is, spread across the bed in the outfit, Kaoru wants to see him moving instead of still, making noise instead of staying silent. 

“Ready?” Kaoru asks, pitches it as teasing instead of cautious. He knows how to navigate situations like this, knows how to flatter Izumi and overwhelm Chiaki, and if it falls on him to play his role then it makes it easier for both of them to play theirs. It’s a genuine thing, this relationship that the three of them have fumbled their way into, but it’s still tenuous, and he doesn’t mind giving a push when necessary to get them all where they need to be to be comfortable.

“Mmm,” Izumi hums, in response; Chiaki’s hands still on Izumi’s ass, his eyes darting up to Izumi’s face as Kaoru carefully switches the vibrator on.

It’s the medium setting, of course, because Kaoru is smart enough to know that the highest setting is right out as too overwhelming, but he’s impatient enough to skip the smalltalk.

“ _Ah_ ,” Izumi say, and his body moves in a way that looks so elegantly practiced even though Kaoru knows it’s automatic. His back arches, his ass moving up like he can find the pressure he craves, but there’s nothing there to rut against, nothing to brace back against.

Chiaki lowers his hands, wraps them around Izumi’s midsection and pulls up until Izumi is on his knees. Kaoru lowers the vibration, at that point; he slides it over to Chiaki, leaning down to look at the view from another angle, the way Izumi’s cock is stiffening to distort his underwear into pointlessness, the way Izumi is biting his lip. Izumi braces himself up on his crossed arms, letting his head fall forward onto them like he can’t keep himself anymore elevated than strictly necessary.

“Don’t say a word,” Izumi says, shivering; Kaoru can see the exact moment that Chiaki turns the vibration back up, hits one of the several functions that sends sensation rolling irregularly through Izumi instead of leaving a steady thrum.

“What if what I was going to say was that you’re beautiful?” Kaoru offers, pleasantly, reaching up to drag his thumb across Izumi’s pinkened lips. Izumi allows it, letting his mouth fall open even as he struggles to keep himself upright on his arms. He tilts his chin into the touch, and Kaoru reflects that they’d made a mistake: Izumi was clearly more of a cat than a rabbit, his eyes dilating with arousal. 

“You always say that,” Izumi says, even though he’s flush with the compliment, with the truth of it written in the fact of Kaoru’s hand on his chin and Chiaki’s hands on his ass.

“Well,” Chiaki offers, managing to sound less overwhelmed with the situation, “that’s because you are.”

Compliments from Chiaki aren’t rare, really, but Izumi still shivers with pleasure at it. Chiaki reaches up, rests his hand on the bunny tail, and then looks at Kaoru, wordless and offering. Kaoru slides over, pulling Izumi up until he’s half in Kaoru’s lap, and strokes through his hair when Chiaki presses against the tail, the reverberations sending Izumi straight down to moan against Kaoru’s thigh. It’s like a cascade, the way that Izumi moves making Kaoru’s stomach drop out in sudden, tight arousal. 

He cards his hand through Izumi’s hair without any regard for the soft texture. Normally, he’d appreciate it more, but right now -- 

“Haa,” Izumi says, and it’s clear that he’s trying to gather himself, trying to figure out how to claw his way back to coherency. Chiaki relents, moving his fingers away and presumably lowering the setting. Izumi lets out another noise, quiet and discontent: the absence is clearly just as bad as the presence, in its own way.

“It looks really good,” Chiaki says, all in a rush, like he can’t quite get the words out fast enough, “but it would look better if --” He falters, then; he turns as red as his stage outfits, and he can’t quite get the words out. 

It’s fine, Kaoru thinks; heroes probably shouldn’t be saying vulgarities.

“If you were inside him?” Kaoru offers, and Izumi’s hips twitch. 

Chiaki offers Kaoru a smile, easy and grateful, and Kaoru feels his chest flip in a way that has nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with things that are much, much more complicated.

“Then do it,” Izumi says, impatience in his voice. Kaoru can’t blame him, because there’s nothing worse than aching emptiness when all you want is _more_. 

“Yes!” Chiaki says, like it’s a command that needs agreement. If it is a command, it’s one he’s happy to obey: he kisses the inside of Izumi’s thigh when he pulls the tail out, and his grip on Izumi’s hip is surprisingly strong when Izumi tries to buck back against him.

“Hey,” Kaoru says, redirecting Izumi’s slightly sullen attention while Chiaki takes care of the fact that he’s in entirely too much clothing. He leans in, and Izumi meets him halfway in a kiss that’s easy and deep. Izumi has always been a fantastic kisser, the things that he does with his mouth hardly limited to his acerbic tongue, and Kaoru has always appreciated the way Izumi knows just how to tilt his head and just the way to move his lips. 

“ _Hey_ ,” Chiaki says, and Kaoru allows Izumi to tilt his head away, for both of them to focus on Chiaki, sans pants, lowering himself in next to them. 

“Ah, sorry,” Kaoru offers breezily; it’s a nice, sharp spike of satisfaction to see someone like Chiaki be jealous even for a second. Chiaki’s method of kissing is entirely different: he goes at Izumi without any of the delicacy that Kaoru does, kisses him like a force of nature, and Kaoru watches the way Izumi allows it, bends under the force. Kaoru leans in to press kisses to Izumi’s neck, instead, and he hears the sharp inhale that Izumi makes when his teeth graze the soft skin.

“Don’t--” Izumi starts to say, before Chiaki moves further forward, insistently entrapping his lips.

“Don’t worry,” Kaoru offers. “I won’t do anything you can’t hide.” Which leaves him a lot of leeway, granted, because Izumi is probably in the top five most skilled makeup artists at Yumenosaki, but it’s a promise nonetheless. None of them are quite ready for the entire world to know they’re the ones leaving marks on each other, and the understanding they’ve all reached is something Kaoru desperately wants to keep as a steady influence in his life. 

Izumi doesn’t protest. Not that there’s much he could manage to protest, with Chiaki pressing deep against his lips and Kaoru drawing a purpling bruise up along his shoulder.

“This isn’t,” Izumi says, high and breathless when Chiaki finally pulls away, “being inside me at all.” He manages to still sound like he’s critiquing them, like he’s not involved in the situation at all: he acts as unaffected as he can, when his dick is hard and his movements are all towards the two of them, half-repressed jerks towards something that might give him pleasure. 

“Getting there,” Kaoru says, even though he wasn’t even the one planning on it. Not at the moment, anyway. He reaches up, sliding the bunny ears off of Izumi’s head so he could have better access to his hair, watching Chiaki move back behind Izumi.

“You’re going so slo-- _ah_ ,” Izumi says, breaking off when Chiaki drags his fingers down across Izumi’s ass. It’s a teasing touch, given that there’s no need to do anything but press inside of him when Izumi is already stretched open and slick with lubricant, but it still makes Izumi shudder against them both.

Chiaki, thankfully, is a noble person who would never think of making his partner beg, which is a quality that comes in handy when he finally lines up against Izumi and presses inside of him. It’s not exactly the most practiced move: he stutters out here and there before he finally manages to bottom out, and he buries his face against Izumi’s shoulder blades, biting at the edge of the corset. Kaoru watches the way Izumi’s back bows out, his mouth dropping open and his eyes closing against the pleasure of it. Izumi doesn’t moan, not quite, but he lets his breath catch in his throat, stuttering into his lungs like a morse code that signals out his pleasure.

“Ah,” Chiaki says, momentarily speechless. He leans down, presses a tender kiss against Izumi’s shoulder and waits for him to adjust. Chiaki’s pacing has always been either too quick or too cautious, and it’s easier to let Izumi take the lead in the beginning, to let him set a rhythm until they both lose themselves entirely.

“There you go,” Izumi offers, eyelids fluttering as he tries to focus. He makes eye contact with Kaoru, and Kaoru can feel the blood rush straight to his dick in a Pavlovian response to seeing Izumi filled up so close to him, fingernails dragging across the bed without purpose.

“Think you can handle one more?” Kaoru asks, and Izumi huffs like he’s offended by the mere suggestion, like he’s never met a dick he couldn’t conquer in his entire life.

Which is probably true, actually, but the details of the thought quickly vanish when Izumi leans forward to press his lips against Kaoru’s still clothed crotch. Even Izumi isn’t good enough to get Kaoru’s dick out without using his hands, and given that he’s a little busy trying to support his weight as he adjusts to the feeling of Chiaki inside him, Kaoru makes the first move there. He leans back enough that he can shove all the fabric out of the way and down his hips. Izumi licks his lips, and Kaoru nearly blacks out, because he thinks it might be completely unconscious on Izumi’s part and it’s one of the hottest things he’s seen in recent memory.

Or at least in the past five minutes, given that the entire past two hours was a steadily building scenario designed to make everyone involved as horny as possible. (Which: it was working great.)

Izumi can’t position himself, so Kaoru takes the lead there, too; it’s easy to move forward, to sit up on his knees until Izumi can get a grip up on Kaoru’s hips and press his lips to Kaoru’s thigh.

“You can,” Izumi says, breathless and hot against Kaoru’s skin, every exhalation like a hundred years of torture, “move.”

It’s permission for Chiaki, not for Kaoru, but they both take a second to react: Kaoru freezes when Izumi licks a long, heated stripe up Kaoru’s dick, and Chiaki watches it with his eyes wide and his mouth open. He kickstarts eventually, his hips jerking before he gets ahold of himself -- and then he drags out and pushes back in, slow enough that it drags another moan out of Izumi that reverberates around Kaoru’s cock.

“Shit,” Kaoru says, and he can see the flicker of a pleased smile cross Izumi’s face before Izumi opens his mouth to swallow Kaoru down. The automatic cacophony of pleasure drowns out anything else, and Kaoru winds up lost in the noise. There’s a million things that are happening that he wants to remember for later: the feeling of Izumi’s hair through his fingers, the sound of each breathless noise Izumi makes around his dick, the way Chiaki grabs too hard at Izumi’s hips and Izumi leans into it anyway, heedless of any marks that might linger later.

Kaoru winds up leaning back, bracing himself when he finds that he needs his other hand to help stifle himself. It isn’t that he’s self-conscious about moaning -- quite the opposite, given he knows how Chiaki and Izumi vocalizing their pleasure makes him feel -- but there’s “enjoying yourself” and then there’s “just a litany of cursing”, and he feels like he might veer too far towards the latter if he isn’t careful.

He bites his hand instead, tries to focus enough on the sharp pinprick of pain that he doesn’t immediately come in Izumi’s mouth. Izumi glances up at him, mouth stretched wide around Kaoru’s dick and a deep flush across his cheeks, and Kaoru wants to make sure that he remembers all of this. Even if they can repeat it later (and god, he hopes they can, a thousand times more regardless of what the future holds), he wants to have this memory, as distinct and perfect as all the other times the three of them have come together like this.

Izumi pulls off Kaoru’s dick, a brief pause that lets Kaoru reorient himself. “Aren’t you,” Izumi says, breathless; it’s as far as he gets in the sentence before he has to break off into a shuddering sigh as Chiaki curls over him, hips moving with a complete disregard for rhythm. “Going to tell me I’m doing a good job?”

Chiaki mumbles something into Izumi’s back, something that might be an incoherent compliment or vague praise or just a wordless vocalization pulled from him by the sheer overwhelming sensation of Izumi wrapped around him.

“You can do,” Kaoru says, knowing that it’s dangerous to egg Izumi on in a situation like this, “better, can’t you?”

Izumi’s eyes practically glint, and when he goes back down on Kaoru’s cock he swallows him entirely down his throat, hard enough that Kaoru can feel him spasm with the urge to cough. It passes; Izumi swallows the reflex as easily as anything else, and when he picks up a rhythm that’s completely discordant to Chiaki’s rhythm, Kaoru loses himself completely.

It’s amazing, of _course_ it’s amazing, Izumi never does anything that isn’t amazing. Kaoru might be saying it outloud; he’s not entirely certain anymore, because it’s all he can do to try and hold back--

But Kaoru is a teenager, and Izumi is deepthroating his cock while wearing a sexy bunny costume, and there’s really only so much self-control one man can be expected to have.

“I’m going to--” he manages, and Izumi pulls back just enough that when Kaoru comes, Izumi can comfortably swallow. Some still leaks out the side of Izumi’s mouth, and his hand twitches like he wants to wipe at it, cum mixed with his own saliva, but he can’t risk unbalancing himself when Chiaki keeps rocking forward.

Through the haze of post-pleasure comedown, Kaoru can watch the way Chiaki wraps his hand around Izumi, the way Izumi buries his face into Kaoru’s thigh to pant out each rough breath. It’s a stuttering, quick rhythm, staccato bursts, and when Izumi comes, not far behind Kaoru, Kaoru can’t say that he’s surprised. Izumi’s body has been on high-alert for ages now, and Kaoru is honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did. Izumi presses against Kaoru, and Kaoru wraps his arms around him, curling over him in a mirror image of the way Chiaki is.

Chiaki slows: he bites his lip, his own orgasm clearly being held back by a single thread, but the post-orgasm oversensitive blur is always so much.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Izumi says, his voice high, and Chiaki hesitates for a split second. He makes eye contact with Kaoru, who offers a smile that’s as encouraging as it can be without outright saying, ‘yes, I want to see you pound our mutual boyfriend into the mattress’. Chiaki seems to get the message, though, because when he moves again Izumi _keens_ , high and desperate and overwhelmed. 

Neither of them touch Izumi’s cock, but neither of them _need_ to; Chiaki’s orgasm takes just long enough that Izumi’s body decides it’s ready to go again, and Izumi groans in tandem with Chiaki, eyes pressed tightly shut. Izumi shakes against the two of them, caught between them, and Kaoru waits until Chiaki starts to visibly come back to himself before he starts to move.

“What,” Izumi says, when Chiaki pulls out and Kaoru presses Izumi over onto his back, “are you trying for a round two?”

“No,” Kaoru says.

“You are,” Chiaki offers. He reaches up again, but Kaoru stops him, letting his own fingers wrap around Izumi’s dick. The response is instantaneous: as oversensitive as Izumi still is, his body is clearly ready to go again, and he arches up into the touch. 

“Fine,” Izumi says, like it’s something he can deign to offer, to let Kaoru jerk him off when he’s still half-covered in cum. 

Kaoru and Chiaki swap positions with very little need for communication: Chiaki kisses Izumi, deep and long, and Kaoru tries not to get distracted letting his head spin with the fact that Izumi was just sucking Kaoru’s dick and all the extra implications that means. Not that Chiaki hasn’t gone down on him before, but, like -- it was still _hot_.

Kaoru, in the meantime, slips one hand underneath Izumi to start popping the laces of the costume, letting it loosen enough that he can reach underneath to slide his hand across Izumi’s ribcage, to drag across his nipples. He doesn’t stop the steady motion of his hand on Izumi’s dick, and everytime Izumi jerks his hips up, Chiaki dips his head down to nip at Izumi’s neck, at his throat, at his collarbones.

Kaoru doesn’t know how long it takes, if he’s being entirely honest. The entire encounter has his sense of time trashed, seconds bleeding into hours. If someone told him that they’d all been inside the room for an entire week, he’d believe them, because he’s absolutely certain he could watch Chiaki kiss Izumi for a week, could watch the way Izumi pants against Chiaki’s lips in little quivering motions as his body builds towards another release.

When Izumi comes the second time, he exhales through it, eyelashes fluttering against the feeling. Kaoru strokes him through it, and then lets his fingers trace down the inside of Izumi’s thigh, tender and almost reverent. 

“One of you will have to carry me to the shower,” Izumi says, finally, when he deigns to speak again. He doesn’t move, but Chiaki does, nearly jumping into action before realizing the movement will cause a cascading failure that will result in everyone on the floor. 

“I can do it!” Chiaki says, and Izumi makes a marginal, obligatory amount of grumbling as everyone slowly disentangles themselves from each other. Izumi winces as he stands, letting the rest of the costume fall to the ground. It really _wasn’t_ meant for more than one use, from the looks of things. 

Chiaki reaches out, tracing his fingers down the marks he’d left on Izumi’s hips, purple-red bruises like a temporary brand.

“Do they--” Chiaki starts, looking almost anxious.

“I like them,” Izumi says, cutting him off in a swift motion. He takes a step forward and falters, and allows it entirely when Chiaki sweeps an arm underneath him for support. “I’ll be able to touch them later and remember this.”

Kaoru groans, dragging a pillow over his face, because the last thing he needs is the image of _that_ stuck in his brain, of Izumi late at night touching the marks and touching himself -- 

“Heh,” Izumi says, with absolutely _no_ shame in his voice. 

“You’re actually trying to kill me, huh?” Kaoru asks when he finally removes the pillow. Chiaki and Izumi are already headed to clean up, so Kaoru follows after: he’s still the most dressed of the three of them, so all he needs to do is some tucking and he’s good to go, but he’s hardly going to turn down a bath with the both of them.

“Is it working?” Izumi asks. He leans forward when Chiaki finally sets him down, running his hand across Chiaki’s chin. “Next time, you can wear the outfit.”

Chiaki’s eyes widen, but his gaze seems to be trapped on Izumi, unable to move anywhere else but exactly where he is, down on one knee in front of him.

“You’d make a really cute dog,” Kaoru offers in a moment of foolish solidarity with Izumi, because he knows that turnabout is fair play and that he’s _absolutely_ going to wind up with a fox tail or something after all this.

Chiaki looks at Izumi, and then over at Kaoru, and, bright red, he offers: a bark. 

Yeah, Kaoru was definitely going to die at this rate, but he can’t muster a single good reason why he’d ever protest when Izumi and Chiaki both look at him.

“Take off your clothes,” Izumi says, calm and commanding, seated near the showerhead with a surprisingly regal air for someone with hickeys all the way down his chest.

“I’ll help you!” Chiaki says, too enthusiastic for Kaoru to ever turn down. 

Kaoru can’t think of any good reasons to leave when he had two amazing reasons to stay right in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> written as a commission I'm finally getting around to posting! i love 39... 44... however many boys are in ensemble stars now but i ESPECIALLY love the class of 3A so this was an absolute joy to write 
> 
> i realize belatedly that i appear to have fucked up my tenses a few times in this fic so please forgive me, i am so bad. so bad at staying in one tense.
> 
> you can find me on twitter @warsfeils!


End file.
